The Light of Dawn
by Transii
Summary: -Extended novelization of Good Ending.- "I'm sure Aster would have wanted it this way," Richter said, not unkindly. The corners of his mouth lifted in the tiniest amused smile. "He was such an idealist."
1. Sundown

**SPOILER WARNING FOR THE GOOD ENDING.  
**  
Otherwise, enjoy. -Transi

* * *

"I'll always love you too, Marta."

And then the gate shut. The echo reverberated through the chamber. Abruptly, silence fell over the two remaining trapped inside.

Richter peered at the boy through his glasses, viridian eyes focused and calculating as always. "Is the ritual complete?"

The boy returned his gaze to the redhead, Ratatosk once more. "Yes… it's complete," he replied, voice soft but not weak, underlined with authority that belied his mortal vessel. "As of this moment, none of us will be able to leave this room." He fell silent, seemingly thinking over the prospective eternity that loomed over both their futures.

"An eternal hell," Richter stated dryly, glancing for a moment at the dismal, dark surroundings. Streaks of red and black danced meaninglessly across the abstract void. Returning to lock eyes with equally crimson-hued pupils, Richter smirked. "I suppose it's only fitting for a man who sold his soul to demons and who tried to destroy the world." He examined the figure before him acutely, mind brewing in a mix of his old hatred for the spirit and a new, rawer trust in the boy within the spirit, Emil. Frankly, he didn't quite know what to think of this… entity… anymore. To the point where he couldn't decide what to call him. He decided to avoid proper nouns for the time being.

Ratatosk said nothing.

He turned away. "Well, it's time for me to make my sacrifice." The door to the demonic realm loomed before him. Not particularly a welcoming sight, Richter thought to himself wryly. The Sacred Stone felt heavy in his pocket, as if it carried the weight of the act he was about to commit. "I'm not sure how long my body will last without the Chosen's Cruxis Crystal—"

"A thousand years."

Stopped before he could begin to approach the gate, Richter paused to back over his shoulder inquiringly. Ratatosk met his gaze, with a hint of what Richter— to his utter surprise— identified as concern, carrying an apologetic edge. "It will take one thousand years to draw out the mana from all living brings." Breaking eye contact, the blonde inclined his head to gaze at the ground, Richter looking on in astonishment at seeing such a display of uncertainty from the spirit. "After that, it will no longer be necessary to support the world with mana." A pause. "Then I will use what's left to make a new seal for the door." He looked up again, and Richter couldn't help but note the …similarities.

_It's as if he were Emil_.

Something wrenched in his gut suddenly, a feeling of premonition rising. _Don't tell me…_

"And at that time… I will set you free from here as well."

Shocked into silence. Those were the words, Richter confirmed, that described himself perfectly as his mind returned to him, slowly. After gazing at Ratatosk's— Emil's? Aster's?— face searchingly for a moment, he closed his eyes.

_Is this your apology, Ratatosk?_

Nothing could ever undo Aster's death. Even Ratatosk knew that. Richter himself had known it throughout his journey to avenge it. A stubborn denial had taken root in his lust for revenge, likely, blinding him from the obvious fact. There was no such thing as true resurrection, and Richter would be damned before he let Aster suffer the curse of becoming the victim of an attempt.

His… attempt.

Goddess, what had he been doing all this time? Aster was dead. He'd been running from that reality all these past months. Now it faced him like death, staring him down like a hawk, daring him to deny it again. He didn't. He couldn't, anymore. Richter would live with that tragedy for the entirety of his half-elven life, but he would learn to live with no more rage to handicap his actions toward Emil, or anyone else… if he survived the Sacred Stone. On the other hand, he couldn't simply forget what Ratatosk had done, either. No; his death would remain in his perception of Emil forever he existed, like it or not. But…

His head bowed in acknowledgement and acceptance. Not forgiveness… not quite yet. In the meantime, this would do, he supposed.

Ratatosk, unseen to Richter in that short moment, smiled… the first time in an eternity.

The chamber fell into quietness once again.

Returning his attention to the matter at hand, Richter began to walk toward the Gate to Niflheim. Halfway across the platform, at the edge of the narrow path, an idea presented itself under the cover of the silence to Richter as he approached the Gate. He stopped, brow knotted in thought; then, turning to face Ratatosk, he called again to him.

"Then there's something I want to ask you."

The spirit looked up at him, taken off guard.

"Since you're capable of dividing into both a core and a physical body…" Richter paused to think over what he was about to suggest, then continued, "perhaps you could separate into two forms: Emil and Ratatosk, and live that way. If necessary," he added quickly, before the boy could protest, "you could live off my body." It was the least he could do— his mana would be converted to flame anyway, and he himself would bear no greater burden by supporting Emil.

But still Ratatosk refused. "Impossible," he objected, shaking his head. "I have the task of separating the mana from the world."

…that _was_ true. Richter fell silent, unable to come up with a retaliating argument.

A core flashed from the lock. "We Centurions and monsters would be happy to carry out that task— under your orders, of course," Tenebrae's voice issued from everywhere and nowhere at once. Emil's still red eyes lifted to the void above them. Richter decided not to waste the effort. "As long as you stay in contact, there's no issue with you dividing yourself in two forms."

Ah, so the spiteful Centurion was on Richter's side today. The redhead smiled despite himself. Emil, not noticing, only furrowed his brow, but Aqua began where Tenebrae left off.

"Lord Ratatosk," she addressed her master by his full title, "to us the lifespan of a human being is nothing more than the blink of an eye."

They waited in unison for his reply, half-elf and Centurions together.

To their disappointment Emil's expression did not change. "The fact still remains that I actually took a human life. That single act has led to all of this… and is affecting the lives of countless others." His eyes met Richter's for an instant, then closed under a burdened conscience. "I caused all this tragedy." When they opened again, they were downcast. "I can't just simply ignore it."

"But Emil, the other 'you', regretted Aster's death." Richter's resolute gaze accosted Ratatosk with this assertion. "And even though the crime was not committed by his will, he tried to atone for it."

_With his own death._

Many emotions flickered across Ratatosk's face, one of them shock, but the end countenance was one of turmoil. He recovered fairly quickly, protesting weakly against the presented suggestion and eyes bearing guilt. "But… Richter…" His voice trailed. It was obvious that he dearly wished he could live out Emil's life, but at the same time, his own conscience halted at the point of harming Richter any further than he had done already. Wasn't killing Aster enough of a crime? Living off Richter's body to fulfill another selfish desire… surely that was too much to ask.

Said half-elf watched the boy keenly, the inner conflict almost visible from the outside. As unsettling as it was to see the spirit so unsure of himself, it was at the same time highly interesting to see him suffer under guilt— this same being that had been so indifferent to death only a little time ago.

All of a sudden, another voice added its presence to theirs. "Ratatosk," Veritus' voice echoed like bells in the void, "your heart has spoken. It wishes you to live the life that Aster, who died at your hands, could not.

"I am prepared to carry out that wish for you."

It was the final push. Ratatosk looked torn, looking from his surroundings and Veritus' disembodied voice to Richter, eyes contorted in a silent, anxious but hesitant question:

_Could I…? _

"I'm sure Aster would've wanted it this way," Richter replied, not unkindly. The corners of his mouth lifted in the tiniest amused smile. "He was such an idealist."

_Courage is the magic that turns dreams into reality._

A light issued from his left forehead, filtering through his bangs before solidifying into an oblique crystal scar. The glasslike faces gleamed crimson, reflecting the dim light of the chamber; the light grew, overtaking the shadows cast into the shapeless walls. through this Richter did not flinch, viridian eyes remaining on the figure that faced him even as the core continued to emit rays of stronger intensity.

Ratatosk watched as the core attached itself to its new host, his pupils reflecting the color of the crystal— and underneath them, his gratitude was incalculable. He could only smile his gratefulness.

"Thank you."

The world cascaded into white.


	2. Dusk

He was floating in that space again.

It was the one that embodied the intangible sphere of his mind, a limitless white void streaked through with odd strokes of blue and red and odd bits of black that wasn't really black, and every color in between. It was a quiet, peaceful place. There was nothing to disturb him but the sound of his own breath and the mystery of the sourceless wind that kept up a constant, uplifting draft. He allowed his body to float aimlessly for the time being.

Ratatosk was absent from this space. Emil figured it was because he was the one with manual control over their shared vessel at the moment, and he wasn't, so he was the one left… hanging. Literally.

He sighed. The sound dissipated into the silence. This mind-space of sorts really wasn't the most interesting place to be in. Apart from snippets of the happenings outside, he had no real contact with the real world, or even his own body. For all he knew, the next time he reemerged could be a hundred years after his final goodbyes to his friends… Lloyd, Zelos, Regal... the Sage siblings... Presea, Colette, and... Marta.

A hundred years. That really… was a long time, to him. He supposed it didn't look so daunting to Ratatosk, him being a summon spirit and all. His full age probably dwarfed his measly sixteen. …or, technically, one-and-a-half.

Didn't someone mention that Ratatosk had been alive since the birth of the world?

Hm…

The void's emptiness was rather contagious once he stayed in it for more than a few minutes. After awhile, he wouldn't even be aware of his own self. And he would wake up whenever Ratatosk decided he was bored with being in the front seat, with no memory of the time elapsed… This had been what happened after Tenebrae returned to core state, which triggered his 'Ratatosk-Mode' to fully split from his own personality. In any case, hopefully his more aggressive counterpart would be kind enough to fill him in on what he missed, from now on.

Not that he'd miss much. An eternity protecting the Ginnungagop wasn't exactly an eventful job.

He wondered if Marta would die before he saw the world again, if ever.

He sighed again.

and waited.

…

…

…

…_Emil._

Ratatosk's deeper voice cut through the haze of the mind-space, disturbing Emil from falling deeper into his coma. The fog that had advanced into his senses retreated just the tiniest bit. "Huh…?" he muttered belatedly. The void's effects had yet to clear out of his mind completely. It was slow to pull away, like a gigantic, stifling, opaque painkiller gel. He vaguely remembered having to force one down after taking a bad hit, which had fractured several of his ribs during a battle against several Ogres.

Or had it been Manticores…?

_Emil. Wake up. _

Man, that had hurt. The gel had kept the pain at bay while Professor Sage healed the bones with an arte. The way the shards of bone had twisted in his body to realign themselves had sure _looked_ painful. Thankfully the gel had worn off long after the bones had mended, and—

_Focus!_

His tone was not so commanding as it used to be, but there was an urgency in his voice. Emil shook himself more awake and dragged up a gloved hand to rub his eyes halfheartedly, mumbling, "I'm up, I'm up…" It took a moment for the world— or rather, lack thereof— to come back into focus. The colors swirled distractingly. He blinked. Oh, that looks pretty…

There was a sigh and the intangible equivalent of a hand dragged down the face. _Emil. Pay attention._

He nodded.

_We're separating._

_That_ definitely caught his attention. "Wha— Wait, what?" he asked confusedly, jerking himself into an upright suspended position. What was left of the null in his brain peeled away forcefully, causing a minor headache; this Emil ignored to the best of his ability. Ratatosk was still nowhere to be seen within the void, but the odd swirls of color danced at a heightened speed. Glancing about wildly, Emil called out, "Where are you?"

_Get ready_.

"For what? Separating? What do you mean?" Emil inquired desperately. What was this about separating?! Would Ratatosk die? Hell, would _he_ die? "What's going on?!"

There was a split second of utter silence, permeated only by the sound issuing from his heart. It beat noisily, pounding in his ears. Emil was almost fearful he wouldn't hear Ratatosk if he spoke again for all the noise his pulse seemed to be making. His limbs shuddered with adrenaline, eyes wide and searching still. Ratatosk didn't show. He tensed, uneasy and not knowing what to expect.

A second passed.

Emil frowned, then opened his mouth to try to call Ratatosk again—

_Would you… say hello, to Marta for me?_

He only had enough time to blink in surprise before the walls of his mind-space imploded upon him.

The world faded to black.

* * *

Sorry it's short. Next chapter will be longer.

R&R, please.


	3. Midnight

The first thing Emil became aware of was the migraine, which hit his head like a sack of bricks. And after that, the fact that he was lying flat on his face.

He couldn't breathe.

With a great effort, he managed to flop unceremoniously onto his back, coughing and hacking at the burning that plagued his lungs. To his misfortune, the rush of air that greeted his needy respiratory system only served to alert him to the stinging that assaulted his entire body. Emil, too overwhelmed by the immediate pain to even think of an ire toward the predicament, lay victim to whatever bed of needles he was unlucky enough to have woken up in.

After awhile he managed to stop coughing. His breath came in shallow gasps, passing wheezily between his lips. The combined pain was enough to overload his mind. Just above the prickling sensation on his face he could just barely feel strands of hair sticking to his skin, which was quickly beading with sweat. The moisture did nothing to relieve the burning.

"_First Aid_!"

For a blessed second, the needles ceased their barrage upon his body. Emil had time to exhale a painless sigh, then inhale again, before they returned.

"Aqua…!"

A little while passed. And then—

"_Cure!!"_

Again, a brief moment of relief. The wash of coolness brushed over his skin, lingered, then left like the other had. Emil's face contorted with the fresh onslaught of pain, seemingly amplified by the short bursts of reprieve. He groaned, teeth clenched against his nerves. There was a shuffle and some noise, somewhere very distant and muted beyond interpretation.

"_Resurrection!"_

This time, the pain subsided gradually. Emil shuddered, too tired and too dazed to try anything mentally taxing.

Everything was blurred. Sound, muffled. Touch, dull. Smell, nonexistent— and sight, terrible. He couldn't even register light and dark past his eyelids at this point. For the moment, he focused on breathing.

Several somethings caught the skin of his face, causing him to flinch. The touch wasn't painful, but his nerves were shot from what he'd just gone through… It moved over the side of his face, then up to his forehead, brushing away hair from its path. The feel of the something was soft and felt worn. As it moved, it partially wicked some of the moisture away from where it touched his face, then left a lingering warmth as it left completely.

Suddenly it was back, patting his cheek.

"Emil."

It was as if a nail had dropped. Emil's senses sprang to life, particularly his hearing— outside sounds and textures colors (what he could see from behind his eyelids, anyway) — all at once, information flooded his brain from the rest of the world. The ground was cold. He was laying flat on it, on his back. A bead of sweat traced a path down his forehead. Something contacted his face, then left… then came back…

"Damn—" the voice returned, sounding strained. "Emil. Emil!"

He stirred, lulled by the voice—he was able to move but still unable to see. "Who…?"

The something lay at his forehead one last time, accompanied by a relieved sigh. As it left, Emil struggled to work his limbs. They felt like rubber— when he tried to force his fingers to bend, they twitched, then refused to curl any further than to a certain degree. Several more attempts later, blood regained flow into the digits and only a half second later he realized that his hands felt cold. Bitterly cold. But at least now he knew that the blood was flowing.

After awhile he managed to peel both of his eyelids back.

"…Richter?"

The man in question smirked, but the line of his brow wasn't as hard as Emil remembered. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

Emil frowned. "I was n—" A coughing fit gripped him temporarily. Richter started, then leant over to help the younger boy into a sitting position. A steady hand kept his shoulders in place until the spasm passed. "I was never dead," he finished.

Richter's viridian eyes searched him for a moment, then looked away sharply. "No, you hadn't," he growled, aside.

Emil blinked. "Huh?"

"It's nothing." he replied quickly, turning back. Looking over Emil with a critical eye, he asked, "can you stand?"

"Um…" As it turned out, Emil could. After a few tries, he was able to stand up without Richter's help. Even so, he stood shakily, his body not quite recovered yet. All of a sudden his pack and sword felt immensely heavy. So heavy, in fact, that he had to lean forward slightly in proportion to the weight in order to keep himself on two feet. Still, he wavered slightly. Emil frowned, then returned his attention to Richter. "Hey, Richter?"

"…Hm?" The taller man seemingly broke out of a stoic reverie, snapping his gaze to him. "What is it?"

Emil recoiled. "Oh— Uh…" The half-elf's face took on its signature exasperated look, at which Emil stuttered, "Wha— Is Ratatosk— I mean, Do you know what happened to him?," he corrected himself, fidgeting. Richter probably didn't want to talk about Ratatosk, but he was itching to know. "Well… More like, what happened, in general, actually? I remember saying goodbye to Marta…" The blonde looked up hopefully, confused and questioning.

Richter inclined his head just a fraction. "Actually, I—" Abruptly, he cut himself off. Emil watched in consternation as his normally sharp viridian eyes unfocused, dulling behind the lens of his glasses. Bewildered, Emil stared anxiously at him, waiting for a reply.

Finally, Richter blinked, then closed his eyes. "Ratatosk is fine," he said. His expression took on a serious edge. "But you need to get out of here, quickly. Don't move," the redhead commanded.

_What? _"But I thought…" _That the gate was sealed…? _Emil watched as Richter removed his weapons from his person. The axe landed with a thud, the handle bend at an angle to the ground. Its partner, the blade, remained in Richter's hands.

"Don't move," came the warning again; then, a sudden light invaded Emil's peripheral vision. He turned away, only to find it surrounding him. Emil, out of the corner of his eye, caught the motion of an invisible quill as it continued to scribe the circle in luminous ink, bathing the immediate surrounding in an eerie blue glow. Etched into the platform on which he stood was a great ring of light, similar to the ones he had seen during Marta's and Professor Sage's Arte castings.

Arte castings.

In fact, this looked suspiciously similar to…!

Emil's eyes widened. His head snapped around to look back at the caster, causing the room to lurch. His foot caught (on what?) and he tripped. "Richter, wait!" he yelled, looking up, realizing too late—

—and, as the spell completed, recoiling against the updraft of concentrated mana—

—looking upon the figure outside the circle, catching a glimpse of a familiar crimson jewel—

—vanishing in an array of swirling light.

_Not again,_ he thought, before passing into unconsciousness.

* * *

_...Success. Emil made it. He still has to walk a ways, but it's a good start. I can keep track of him until he's out completely._

Richter gave no reply. He blinked the afterimage of the spell from his pupils, watching the last strands of mana disappear from view. Even after the visible remnants of the spell faded, his half-elf blood allowed him to sense the energy still lingering over the spot where Emil had vanished.

_Well, _that_ was overkill._

The voice was heavy with sarcasm. Richter grunted noncommittally. "I overestimated the amount of mana I needed to harness for the casting." He'd expected a rather large drain, it being a teleportation arte and all.

_Idiot. _A sneer resounded through his head. _You're my host now. My mana mingles with yours._

"You could have taken the time to inform me of that beforehand," came the reply, curt.

_I thought I had._ The tone was airy.

"No. You _hadn't_," Richter ground out, for the second time. He frowned deeply, brow arched. "It would also have been convenient to know that Emil would be half-dead when he… arrived."

Immediately the voice sobered. _I've… never done something like that before. Even I didn't know what was going to happen. You didn't, either,_ he added, accusingly.

A hmph. "...I didn't," Richter conceded, after a pause. He turned to face the Gate. "Lucky for us Aqua lent a hand."

_Yes. Lucky for us. _It only took several strides to cover the distance between himself and his fate. He watched the frame of the Ginnungagop buckle every few seconds under the force of the demons behind it. The seconds dragged on...

"By the way," Richter said suddenly, arousing the spirit lodged on his forehead, "why was it so important to cast the arte immediately?"

_When the door to this chamber is sealed, _came the reply, _it's _sealed._ Nothing can penetrate it, not even mana. You had to act before the world absorbed what free mana was left in this room._

"I thought you said I would be able to harness your mana."

The former Tree spirit snorted. _You can. And you could've, if you'd wanted to collapse from having an overload of foreign energy invade your system. Utilizing free radicals made it easier on you. In the case that you had collapsed, I would've had to assume control of your body. I don't know about you,_ Ratatosk stated bluntly, a grimace in his voice, _but I do _not_ look forward to the day that our... situation will have to come to that, come if it may. __At all._

"...Ah." Richter smirked. Then, both half-elf and spirit returned their attention to the task at hand. The Gate awaited them. "Time to get to work."

_Indeed._

* * *

Ah... another uneventful one. Longer, but I ran out of inspiration halfway through. Anyways...  
_The next chapter will bring the number of returned to three._

Until next time~


	4. Twilight

Another migraine, another sack of bricks. Emil groaned again. The light from Richter's arte had left bright spots dancing against his eyelids... A sudden pain caught him a spasm and he stiffened against the cold floor, but it left as quickly as it came. It was considerably easier to recover from the overall pain this time, though a dull ache remained afterward- Emil was sure it would last weeks just from the way his body simply ached. Like a giant bruise. He didn't like to think that it was probably because of repeated experience, but it was a likely explanation.

He muttered something incomprehensible (his face was flat against the ground) but didn't try to get up. It seemed he had a rare and unique ability to wake up in strange places on his face. Alone again... What had Ratatosk meant when he said 'separating'? Why had he returned to physical control?

There was nothing interesting within the confines of the Gunnungagop's hellish prison. The way Richter had blasted off that field Arte on him so quickly didn't help to ease the uneasy knot in his stomach. Something was fishy about it all...

"Richter?" Emil attempted hopefully. And then, "Ratatosk...?"

No reply.

At length he managed to roll over and sit up. Immediately the blood rushed out of his head; with a pained groan he bent double, cradling his skull in his hands. His eyes narrowed against the light filtering through his bangs, alternating between squeezing shut and stealing narrow glances at his surroundings, carefully ignoring the bloodstains- both old and new- that puddled the ground. His stomach knotted further at the sight.

This was the Monster Graveyard. Now that he was fully cozignant of the place the hairs on his neck stood on end. The very air stank of death. The atmosphere was pressured; whether from the presence of the dead or the menacing remains of their bones, he didn't know. But why was he here? Surely Richter hadn't meant to send him to this area, of all places...

...or maybe he did. Emil had to admit Richter's sense of humor was more than a little strange. But then again, he wasn't the kind to pull pranks on people.

Had it not been for that faint trace of his signature odor, Emil might have missed him. Or mistaken him as another of the monsters. There, lying curled beside the remains of one and another monster, was Decus- or rather, Decus's body.

He shuddered at the sight.

Almost simultaneously, so did Decus.

Emil froze; a cold fist closed over his chest as the realization sank in.

Left alone, the man would die of blood loss. A slow and painful death. He deserves it, a part of him thought brusquely, wrapping frigid resent around the facts: the deaths this man was responsible for were innumerable. But the sound of another shuddering inhale-exhale brought that train of thought to a screeching halt. Guilt continued to stab at him, opening wounds that bled the memories of his journey.

People, and their actions, and the reasons behind them.

Revenge and forgiveness.

Revenge and...

Hands shaking, Emil quickly unbuckled himself from his sword and pack. After a moment of fumbling he thrust a hand into his gel pocket- and fished out three Lemon gels. He gawked a moment at how low his supplies were, but remembered with a grimace the battles that had depleted his stores not so long ago. With a flick of his finger, the cork popped off easily enough; Emil hesitated, bottle in hand and hand hovering unsurely over the man... But in the end, he upended the viscous fluid over Decus's chest.

The liquid dissolved quickly into the bloody mess of the wound, bright yellow gel growing fainter as the skin merged with a scathing hiss.

Breath hitching, Decus stiffened. His eyes flickered.

Emil froze, suddenly uneasy under the gaze of those red-rimmed eyes... "U- um..."

"...Stalker kid?" His breath was so raspy Emil could nearly hear the dryness of his tongue.

"M-my name's Emil," the blonde began to retort, but his voice threatened to falter and he shut up for the sake of his pride and embarrassment. Decus's eyes rolled closed soon after. The man was probably exhausted. Emil turned away, trying not to think too much about what he had just done.

Alice lay not too far from them.

Her body was sprawled against the ground, nearly as pale as her stained clothes had once been. He paused. Decus was unable to reach her (let alone move at all) so it seemed he'd have to do his part to make sure she was alright... or not. It was the least he could allow his conscience. Shakily, Emil abandoned his now empty pack beside Decus and closed the distance to Alice's side, then pressed two fingers over her pale neck.

After looking over her a moment, the blonde retrieved the second bottle.

The light scent, which bloomed from contact with her pale skin, was a welcome relief from the roils of his gut. A faint glow accompanied the healing; truth be told the scene was a little comforting, if only because it was such a stark contrast to their immediate surroundings. The one gel wasn't enough to cure everything afflicting her; Emil considered her injuries again, knowing that most of the grievious wounds were closed but probably not fully mended.

The instant Alice stirred, Decus attempted to move.

Emil, who was still in the process of checking her over, exclaimed for him to stop. Decus pointedly ignored him and continued his efforts; Emil, panicking slightly, raised his voice.

This time, he did stop. But not for him.

"De... cus?" Platinum-white lashes parted, and they all froze.

A second passed.

And then another.

"Uh... Alice, I- "

Thump. **WHUD.**

"Decus_-_ Decus...! LET GO OF ME!"

"Agh, don't- stop it!" **WHAP.** "_OW!_"

"LET ME GO YOU CREEP YOU SICK UGLY-"

Emil finally managed to distance himself, and Alice rushed past him to her partner's side.

"Decus! Are you alright?" Her eyes took one look at his state of disrepair and immediately whirled around to Emil again. Literally seething killer intent, Alice pinned him with her glare, her fists trembling uncontrollably at her sides. "What are you still doing here?" she snapped.

He physically recoiled. "I- I just tried to help..." he managed, but Alice would have none of it.

"Help?" Her irises glinted gold. "You've got some nerve, coming back here. Why don't you just die, huh? Or got locked in the Gate like all those other worthless demons! Leave us alone!"

_Those who would grovel and beg, or run away at the first sight of another's anger are dogs. Or even worse._

"I..." Resent bubbled up from the recesses of his mind, foreign, unused; it rose up, crackling, into his chest. How could she continue to blame him like this? Hadn't he just helped her? Granted, she probably didn't remember, but... still. To the point of refusing help? Her excessive distaste of him was infuriating-

Infuriating. It felt new. It frothed violently in his chest and emboldened his tongue. Emil swallowed thickly and met her gaze, his green sparring with her scathing gold. "Just give me a chance!"

Though taken aback by his sudden audacity, she wasn't fazed. "Shut up! Don't talk to me, you monster!"

_Are you a dog? Or are you really a man?_

But Emil's will was steeled enough. His face adopted a look that expressed only the slightest of resentment and not just a little bit of determination; on a face like his, however, one that was still unused to showing such emotion, it was more than enough. "I'm not a monster," he deadpanned.

_I'm not a dog._

"I'm a human being."

The glower that Alice leveled at him would have been enough to sear metal- but it was diverted easily enough toward Decus's hacking coughs. "Decus!" She dropped to his side. Alarmed, Emil stepped forward, but Alice's voice cut shrilly through the air. "Stay away!"

Again, his face hardened. "No. I'm trying to help." And he succeeded his first step with another and continued toward them. Alice was beside herself with rage, but at the sight of the bottle he procured- he'd been holding it the whole time- her expression faltered.

"Emil." To Emil's surprise, Decus addressed him first. Emil knelt down with the bottle in his hand, and Decus's face split into a smile.

"Didn't think I'd be seeing you around." Implied: _You got balls, kid._

Alice balked.

Emil nearly laughed out loud. _Me neither. And thanks_. Carefully, he tipped the bottle onto Decus's lips, watching as his adam's apple bobbed. The process was shorter, but in effect it did the same for Decus as it had for Alice. The skin closed over newly restored muscle, broken bones reforming and recreating blood to make up for what had been lost.

Decus exhaled shakily. Alice dove for his hand and held it tightly in both of her own, torn between tending to him and guarding him from Emil. Fortunately, the subject of the latter could take a hint.

"I should be going," Emil mumbled. He set the empty glass beside him and stood to leave. Alice looked like she wanted to say something, but she stiffened when he looked at her, expectantly. Emil decided to let it go. "Um..." He hated goodbyes. "I'll see you later, then."

As he secured his sword and reclaimed his bag, as he walked out of the Graveyard- the whole way, he could feel their eyes on him. Nobody said a word, but just as he turned the bend to disappear out of sight,

"Thank you," a voice floated to him. At that distance he couldn't tell who had said it, but in the end he supposed it didn't really matter.

_Up or down?_ He considered the road ahead of him.

...Up.

There was no other way but up.


End file.
